


Insatiable

by Kunstpause



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Improper use of aether, Multiple Warriors of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Romance, Sex Magic, Smut, theater nerds finding each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-26 08:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunstpause/pseuds/Kunstpause
Summary: There is an Ascian in her room, one of the most dangerous beings she had ever encountered, and she is alone with him. She should, by all means, be terrified, but the fact that he apparently wants to talk about theater makes the whole thing distractingly bizarre.aka WoL and Emet-Selch have a love for theater in common and it leads to unexpected things.
Relationships: Azem/Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	1. A Performance for the Ages

**Author's Note:**

> Brief explanation: Cassia is not the only WoL in this canon. Among the others is her twin sister Adriene. Both of them are not originally from Eorzea and CAssia has spent the time between the calamity and the start of ARR being an actress and a courtesan before getting dragged into the hero life.  
> (I have written other things in this universe, but this story should be able to stand on its own.)

A strange, prickling sensation down her back makes the hairs on her neck stand up, just before she hears a voice next to her.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

It belongs to no other than Emet-Selch, and Cassia tenses as she sees him stand only a few yalms away. Being in the vicinity of an Ascian it not something she thinks she will ever be comfortable with. Especially not with one of the most elusive and arguably most powerful of them.

From what the Shadowhunter in the Source told them, there were three Ascians that were somehow above the rest. Three that had abilities far beyond Cassia’s understanding. She had met the other two before. Lahabrea, the Speaker, is dead by now, but it hadn't been by their hands. When their little group of Warriors of Light had tried to stop him, they had merely succeeded to set him back a bit. No, it had taken a primal built from the prayers of a whole nation for over a thousand years to put an end to him.

And Elidibus, the Emissary, had been a chapter in himself. Strangely forthcoming and polite, yet ruthless in his pursuit of eliminating them. That he hadn’t succeeded, they had achieved through trickery, not power. 

Back in the Source, they had only heard rumors about a third one. About the Architect, Emet-Selch. After he had freely admitted to being the one who constructed some of the most powerful nations throughout their known history earlier that day, Cassia no longer wonders about his title.

What had given her pause, though, was the realization that they had met before. Back in her days in Garlemald, shortly before she had found Adriene and left the theater and her much more lucrative position as one of the highest sought-after courtesans behind. Back then, all she had been aware of was that she was in the presence of the Emperor himself. Something that had in itself already been imposing enough. And still, it pales in comparison to being near him now, knowing that he is so much more than just an Emperor.

“This is my room, me being here is hardly a coincidence or a surprise,” she finally answers dryly. “And I can only assume neither is your presence.”

Cassia is beyond glad that her years as a courtesan and actress had taught her well in pretending to be at ease even in the presence of the most powerful people.

There is no point in talking around the issue. She had seen the way his eyes lingered on her earlier down in the plaza of the Crystarium. 

Emet-Selch only shrugs as he leans against one of the bookshelves. “Can you blame me for my curiosity?” he asks plainly. “You are very far away from home.”

“So are you.”

At her pointed reply, he lets out a short laugh. “Oh, you have no idea, my dear.” With a shake of his head, he gives her a curious look. “You didn’t tell your friends.”

It sounds vague, but Cassia knows what he means. She had recognized him as much as he did her. But their only other meeting prior to this day had been fleeting, feeling far away, almost like it had been in another lifetime. Cassia supposes for him that it is the case quite literally. 

But most of all, it had been of no consequence.

“It hardly seems important, in the grand scale of things,” she says with a shrug of her own. 

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” the Ascian agrees before looking her over with an intense look. “You’ve changed careers since we met, I see. Taking the mantle of the heroine on yourself instead of merely playing one for the masses.”

The way he phrases it seeps underneath her skin, and for a moment, Cassia is caught utterly off guard by the way it stirs something in her she usually manages to ignore. 

“Would it surprise you to hear that it feels almost the same?”

Her voice is quiet but the words uttered without much thought linger strangely heavy on her tongue.

He gives her a look she can’t read at all. It is piercing and inquisitive, yet he doesn’t ask any questions out aloud. After a moment, the tension in the room breaks when he clicks his tongue.

“It is Garlemald’s loss,” he steers the topic somewhere else. “I remember you being quite riveting on stage. A performance for the ages it was called if memory serves.”

“Thank you,” Cassia answers politely. The situation is beyond bizarre, but at least this treads on familiar ground. These kinds of interactions had been common enough for her so she knew exactly what to say and how to say it. “But I had excellent material to work with and a great troupe who made it into what it was.”

She isn’t prepared for how quickly Emet-Selch’s look turns into a frown.

“Modesty doesn’t suit you. In fact, it’s a rather boring cliche.”

His voice is a bit brasher than before, throwing her off-balance.

Cassia blinks in surprise, and it takes her a moment before she admits, “It’s a habit. It gets me further than the truth most of the time.”

At her honest reply, Emet-Selch only scoffs dismissively.

“Do away with it then, for now. Let’s see how the truth fairs instead.”

It sounds almost like a challenge, and Cassia frowns with a tilt of her head. Something about this whole exchange confuses her to no end.

“Why are you even interested?” she cant’t help but ask. “You’re an Ascian. You basically just told us hours ago that you were responsible for constructing the Empire as nothing more than a tool. You labor tirelessly to reach your rather destructive goals.” Spoken out loud, it draws the strange feeling she has from this whole conversation even more out in the open. “Why would someone like you care about an old play? Especially here and now?”

He looks genuinely surprised at her question, and the hint of a smile hovers at the corner of his mouth as he inclines his head.

“My dear, I may not look like it to you right now, but I am ancient.” There is a sense of weariness in his voice for a moment that sounds surprisingly genuine. “My goals are consistent and immovable, but besides that, after uncountable years, there is little left but whimsical indulgences to keep the mind interested. Theater simply happens to be one of those.”

Cassia tries to open her mind, to let herself feel around in the spaces between his words. To search for any hint of untruths hidden behind the things spoken, but she can’t detect anything that isn’t supposed to be there. Not for the first time, she wonders, if her Echo simply doesn’t work on Ascians, but for now, she decides to assume he is telling the truth.

“That’s why the Prima Vista was so well funded then,” she speculates, and when Emet-Selch nods, some things about the high regards for the theatre company that had been present throughout the Empire suddenly make a lot more sense to her. As does its decline after. 

“You know that your grandson pretty much threw that all out of the window after your ’ _death_ ’, right?”

“Ah, children, how much they can disappoint you truly knows no bounds,” he sighs with an overly dramatic flair before he expectantly looks back at her. “All the more reason to speak of better times. Come on, hero, indulge me! And be honest about it.”

She is still unsure what to think about the whole situation. There is an Ascian in her room, one of the most dangerous beings she had ever encountered, and she is alone with him. By the fact that no one had yet started to furiously knock on her door, Cassia knows that none of her friends is aware of this. She should, by all means, be terrified, but the fact that he apparently wants to talk about theater makes the whole thing distractingly bizarre, and Cassia decides that the wisest course of action is to simply go along with it for now.

“ _The Kingdom under the Sea_ was probably my favorite play I’ve ever been in,” Cassia says after a moment. Whenever she thinks back to that particular time, it comes with a smile. It hadn’t been perfect back then, but it had been a time when she, even with all the worry for Adriene, had managed to be somewhat happy every now and then. The memories of her day-to-day life in the troupe feel almost glaringly normal in retrospect. “If I am being honest about it,” she adds, “I think our production of it was quite well executed, but it could have been more.”

“More?” Emet-Selch crosses his arms in front of him as he gives her a curious look. “It was by far the most elaborate production of that piece I’ve ever seen.”

“It was beautifully done for the most part,” Cassia agrees. “But I felt a bit like we were barely scratching the surface with our interpretation. There is so much in the script that holds many meanings at once, layers to dig through, but our director wanted to go with a very traditional, classical approach.” She sighs before she shrugs almost apologetically. “And it was decent, but it could have been a whole journey.”

“If I recall correctly, you got high praises nonetheless. _‘The best she has ever performed’,_ was that not so?” Emet-Selch’s smile looks less mocking than Cassia would have expected. He sounds almost like he agrees with those words. 

Her first instinct is a demure denial. It would be the polite thing to do. The thing that made people more sympathetic to her. One of those unwritten rules of small-talk and polite social interactions. But this conversation is neither, and the Ascian had clearly asked for her honesty. 

“Yes,” Cassia says simply. “And all modesty aside, they were probably right. It was my best performance.” It still feels slightly strange to openly praise herself like this, but at the same time, it is nothing but the truth. Cassia knows though that if she really wanted to be truthful, it needs just a little bit more. “I still think it could have been better,” she adds. “You know, I tried to contact the author once, back then.”

That catches the Ascian’s attention. “The author of the play?”

“I looked them up,” Cassia confesses, and she feels her cheeks growing warm with a hint of embarrassment as she remembered just how much she had idolized that author back then. How desperately she had wanted to speak to them. “Of course, it was a pseudonym, but I wrote to their publishing house, asking if they could forward a letter. I really wanted to talk to them, to ask them questions I had while reading.”

“And, did they reply?” Emet-Selch askes with a curious look. 

Cassia can only shake her head. “Sadly, no,” she laments. “Then again, I rather abruptly left both the theatre and the country mere weeks later. If they ever did, I missed it.”

“Now I’m interested, what did you want to ask?” The curiosity is still in Emet-Selch’s eyes as he leans forward a bit.

“Ah, it’s nothing too important,” Cassia tries to wave the question aside, looking out the window into the glowing beauty of the onsetting sunset. “I’m sure you have better things to worry about. The end of the world and all.”

Emet-Selch is obviously not letting himself be discouraged and his voice turns almost mocking as he asks, “My, was it something embarrassing perchance?”

“What? No!” She practically feels her cheeks redden further as she shakes her head vigorously. “Just… personal,” she adds, and for a brief moment, Cassia expects him to prod or to blatantly make fun of her for writing what could only be described as adoring fan mail, but to her relief, he simply leans back again with a nod.

“What was your favorite thing about that play then?” Emet-Selch asks instead, and Cassia is grateful for the simple change of topics.

“How it builds up hope throughout the character’s journeys,” she says with a smile and without hesitation. “That’s why I was unhappy about how our director went with the ending.”

It seems to give him pause. “If I recall correctly, it was the common interpretation, wasn’t it?”

“It was bullshit, that’s what it was,” Cassia bursts out, and the Ascian looks strangely taken aback. “The script leaves it pretty open, but our director decided to show on stage how nothing really changes. He came up with this whole stupid idea of symbolizing fate through the falling curtain.” There is a blatant scoff in her voice, distaste dripping from her every word. Despite the production being years in the past already, Cassia can't help but still feel strongly about this. “It makes it clear that, in the end, nothing they did mattered. That they are determined to play out their parts by fate.”

“My dear, that was the point of the whole play,” Emet-Selch says, and there is a slight hint of condescension in his tone as he continues, “I’ve seen quite a few performances of it, by different theatres, and on that, every director agreed.”

“I know,” Cassia agrees with a sigh. It is exactly what her director had said to her back then. But none of his arguments had ever quite managed to convince her she was wrong in the end. “See, I don’t think the author necessarily intended that. The script leaves the ending open and…”

Cassia pauses, trying to rein herself in as she realizes her speech had gotten faster. It seems the topic still manages to get her blood pumping and her heart to beat quicker, even after all these years. But these discussions always tend to go one very specific way, and a part of her can’t help being wary about it. She half-expects Emet-Selch to outright laugh at her any moment now, but when she steals a quick look at him, he only seems to be calmly waiting for her to continue.

“Don’t keep me in suspense now,” he prompts when he sees her hesitation, and Cassia smiles slightly to herself as she takes a deep breath.

“Well, I always felt the ruler of the kingdom under the sea wasn’t the true villain of the piece. Their motivations were not that different from the hero’s,” she finally says, holding her breath for a moment in anticipation of the inevitable. This is usually the point when people start dismissing her, telling her to go back to acting or something cruder even, and to leave the thinking to people smarter than her.

Emet-Selch does not react like she would have expected though.

“Ah, but a good story needs its villain, don’t you think?” he asks, and he sounds almost playful for a moment. “It would be remarkably boring without one, after all.”

He doesn’t agree with her, but he also doesn’t sound outright dismissive, and that is far more than Cassia would ever have expected.

“Maybe some people prefer boredom over danger and uncertainty,” she quips back before she can even think about it, and to her surprise, he lets out a hearty laugh.

“And rightfully so, I guess,” the Ascian agrees before he fixes her with another strange look. “Not you, though…”

“Not me, no,” Cassia can’t help but agree. Underneath her careful demeanor, she feels her excitement brewing, waiting to rise to the surface. She has no clue if he even wanted to hear more of her thoughts on the play, but so far, he hasn’t stopped her, nor does he make fun of her for her more unconventional thoughts, and so she gives herself a push.

“If you think about it, the play still has a much more compelling villain,” she suggests, and when Emet-Selch only gives her a questioning look, Cassia smiles. 

“Fate. This determinism of destiny they like to put in the ending is a far more compelling antagonist,” she explains enthusiastically. “And I wanted to know from the author if that was what they were actually trying to say. If it wasn’t so much a story about good versus evil but much more about people of all sorts and differences roaring against the very notion of fate.”

It is quiet when she stops talking, and Cassia chews slightly on her lip as the silence spreads over several moments.

“That’s a very unique perspective…” Emet-Selch finally says after a while, and she can’t pinpoint if he finds her suggestion worth thinking about, or if he is trying to be polite in his dismissal. In her experience, the later one is much more likely, and she deflates a bit.

“You can just say you think it stupid, you know? That’s what the director told me as well when I talked to him about it,” Cassia admits with an exasperated sigh. It’s not like she isn't used to having her thoughts dismissed. 

“I did not say that at all, my dear,” the Ascian points out with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t offer any further explanation but it is somehow enough for Cassia to manage a small smile. 

“You want to know why I was so good in that role?” she asks, feeling a sudden urge to explain just why she feels so strongly about this. “I somehow felt like it was specifically written for me.”

Emet-Selch looks nearly taken aback, disbelief clouding his features. “For you?”

“I know it wasn’t,” Cassia says with a sheepish look. “That play is older than I am by far, and even if it weren’t, I would never be that presumptuous. But still, there were quite many aspects I could identify with.” 

She can see that he doesn’t seem to think much of her little explanation as Emet-Selch draws in a deep breath before he gives her a piercing look.

“I can scarcely imagine anyone more different from the character you played,” he says, and Cassia thinks it could have sounded judgemental, but it feels surprisingly like he is simply trying to state a fact. “You were a very rich and very beautiful actress at the height of her career.”

“Were?” she asks, unexpectedly hung up on that one little word, and Emet-Selch lets out a soft laugh.

“Well, I have no insight into your monetary situation and you are hardly at the height of an acting career anymore, are you?”

A small smile grows on her face as she notices how he seems very deliberate with only asserting two of the three things he mentioned. A moment later, she quietly scolds herself for being apparently vain enough that it matters what one of their sworn enemies thinks of her appearance, and she tries to get back to the earlier topic.

“I grew up in circumstances where I learned from a very young age that everything I was was considered wrong by nearly everyone except my closest family,” she starts to explain her point. Faint memories of Lothering well up in her. Thoughts of hiding day in and out, of carefully trying to suppress parts of her for the safety of everyone. 

“I had to hide who I was, and at the same time learn to control powers I didn’t understand. And then I lost absolutely everything. My family, my home, everything who ever meant something to me, except for one person,” Cassia continues, and by now, she isn’t even really looking at the Ascian anymore. Her eyes are unfocused as she fights down the strange sense of nostalgia she feels for her long-lost home. 

“While I was in that play, I was still looking for her, for my sister Adriene. And I had been for nearly five years at that point.” She takes a deep breath before she looks at Emet-Selch. Something in her feels almost defensive all of a sudden.

“So you see, a character deemed ‘wrong’ and with no right to exist in the kingdom under the sea, who is all alone and losing herself in an environment she’s not made for spoke to me.” She still remembers all too well the first time she read the script. Cassia had found herself feeling so much for the character she was supposed to portray on stage, the tears had streamed down her cheeks for most of the last act of the play. “They wanted to banish her from the kingdom, for fuck’s sake, when they very well knew that the world on land didn’t exist anymore and she had nowhere to go.”

Cassia stops talking as she realizes she had gotten not only more intense but also a tad louder. The dismissive look is completely gone from Emet-Selch’s face, replaced by blatant interest, and Cassia swallows.

“And now I’ve just told you most of my personal history despite barely knowing you at all,” she murmurs before she narrows her eyes at him. “You are very good at this.”

She half-expects him to deny deliberately prodding her for information, but he only gives her an amused look.

“It is one of my many talents,” Emet-Selch says, indicating a little bow with a hint of flourish. His eyes turn calculating as he adds, “You are a little less boring than the rest of your ilk, I must say.”

Cassia can only scoff at that. “Don’t throw around compliments like this so carelessly, you might get me to blush at the praise.”

At that, Emet-Selch lets out a genuine laugh. “My dear, you’ve had _quite_ the reputation off the stage,” he says with a knowing grin. “I don’t think there are many things in this world left that could make you blush.”

“Well, acting was only one of _my_ many talents and not the one I was most valued for, I know that.” Her eyes narrow slightly at him. “And I know you are aware of that too, your palace paid quite a fortune for my time after the last curtain, after all.”

Emet-Selch only shrugs at that. “Courtesy of my grandson, I believe. I can only hope you were treated adequately.” He sounds a bit skeptical at his own words, and with his earlier remarks about disappointing children, Cassia gets the distinct feeling that there is absolutely no love lost in that particular family tree.

“I never actually met him, I understood my time and attention was meant to be a gift to one of his loyal generals.” 

“Of course it was, the boy was never one for self-indulgence.” Emet-Selch scoffs with an aside wave of his hand before he pushes himself off the bookshelves. “Well, as informative as this was, keeping up with your mortal’s thoughts and ideas is always very exhausting. I believe I shall take my leave.” He sounds lofty, all of a sudden, like the past half hour or so is of no consequence at all, yet somehow his eyes linger on her nonetheless.

“Suit yourself,” Cassia shrugs, trying to not let her disappointment show. Their discussion had just started to become interesting, after all. “I still don’t know why you wanted to talk to me in the first place.”

“Indulgence, my dear,” Emet-Selch says with an impatient click of his tongue. “Like I said earlier. Believe it or not, but I do not actually meet that many people who share my interest in the fine arts.”

The matter-of-fact tone in which he says this makes Cassia snort loudly. “I can only guess the kind of people you meet while plotting the end of the world.”

“Don’t bother,” Emet-Selch says with a dismissive note. “Most of them aren’t interesting enough to be thought about at all.”

A dry laugh leaves Cassia’s mouth. “But I am? Now I might actually feel flattered.”

His eyes narrow once again as he gives her a disapproving look. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you at all my dear, I’m afraid. Neither does fishing for compliments.”

Despite his scolding tone, Cassia finds herself at the brink of genuine amusement. Their banter is not overly friendly, but it is quick-witted and full of sharp edges. And even if his words sound almost harsh, there seems to be little heat behind them.

“You are a bit of an arrogant asshole, has someone ever told you that?” she asks him in the sweetest voice possible, and it gets her a genuine-sounding chuckle.

“It has come up.” His reply is bone-dry before he waves his hand once, and a portal appears behind him. “I shall take a look at that play of yours again at the next opportunity, if only to see if I can see where your interpretation stems from.”

“Good luck with that.” Cassia laughs outright now. “I doubt it exists in this world.”

At that, he sends her a look full of mock pity as he shakes his head. “You speak as if I am bound to the laws of any one world.” With a last unreadable look, he looks her over for a moment before he shrugs and turns away. “Farewell,” he says simply with a dismissive wave of his hand before he disappears into the purple void, and a moment later, the portal is gone and he with it.

Somehow, Cassia had expected that to be it. 

When she next sees Emet-Selch, he is complaining about their pace and their decision to take a few days of rest before marching onward to the Rak’tika forest. Nothing he does or says gives any indication their little talk had even taken place. Part of her thinks she should be relieved at that. He had obviously sated some curiosity and that was that.

Yet ‘relief’ is certainly not the right word for what she feels. It takes her a bit to admit to herself that what she feels is much more akin to disappointment. Which is ridiculous. She doesn’t know all too much about Emet-Selch, but she knows what he is, after all. 

An Ascian.

From what she could gather so far, he had been quite busy playing Emperor in Garlemald when the Calamity happened, but just from what little they had learned over the years, especially from Urianger’s time instigating himself with Elidibus a few years ago, Cassia knows that all the of the Ascians are of one mind. Even the ones that work alone labor for the same goal.

Emet-Selch might not have personally destroyed her home, but even if he didn’t have a direct hand in it, she had no doubt that he had been in complete support of what had happened back then. After all, by his own admission, he has a similar fate in the works for the world she is currently standing on. 

Cassia should be nothing but glad he got bored by her quickly. And she certainly should not lament that the brief discussion they had had somehow been thoroughly intriguing to her.

With a sigh, she leans over the railing of the balcony, watching the militia train their newest recruits down in the courtyard below.

Vanquishing two Lightwardens in a row has put a new spring into the step of nearly every person in the Crystarium. The city had been bustling with activity before, but it was nothing compared to the past few days. A palpable feeling of careful excitement seems to hover over the place now, visible in every aspect of the city life. From the crafters who work with a smile on their face to the looks of hope in each pair of eyes she had seen at the markets. But nowhere is the change as visible as with the guard. They train more rigorously than ever before, full of enthusiasm. Of conviction, Cassia realizes. A deep-seated hope coming to the surface, speaking of grand feats and the possibility of defeating the sin eaters. 

“Examining the troops?”

The slightly patronizing voice of the Ascian tears Cassia out of her thoughts, and she barely manages to suppress a flinch. She doesn’t need to turn around to know that Emet-Selch is standing not too far behind her. Just like she doesn’t need to look at him to know that his face holds the usual peculiar mix of disinterest and amusement as he speaks. His tone already freely gives it away. As does the small sigh of exasperation he lets out when she doesn’t immediately answer.

“Oh come on, Hero, why the long face? You’ve rallied the masses and they are ready for whatever you need them to be. Cause for celebration one might think.”

Just when she had managed to somewhat talk herself into accepting that their little private chat had been a one-time occurrence, he had to show up again. A mix of worry and tentative excitement goes through her, and she forces herself not to look at him, to keep her eyes on the training would-be soldiers instead to keep her features neutral. The sound of a sword clattering to the ground echoes through the air, and Cassia watches as the recruit scrambles to pick it up again. For the first time, she notices just how young some of them look. She can’t believe the boy to be older than fifteen perhaps, and something in her stomach feels heavy at the thought. All those faces filled with hope, and Cassia can’t help but worry. 

“They are not ready,” is all that she can mumble. 

“Pardon?” comes Emet-Selch’s reply, a hint of curiosity swinging in his voice as Cassia shakes her head.

“We never wanted to rally the masses, as you put it. We wanted to help and now…” she lets out a deep sigh. “They are going to die.” 

Cassia keeps looking ahead, her eyes following a group of guards engrossed in a late evening training exercise before she turns around to look at her unexpected conversational partner. “Not all of them of course, but I’ve seen this before, back in Ala Mhigo.” Her voice is quiet as the memories of fallen soldiers, comrades, friends, feel almost overwhelming for a moment. “They are going to march into battle, fighting for their future - and some of them, so many of them, won’t ever get to see it.”

The look Emet-Selch gives her is the same he had held when asking her about the play, somehow. It is far less disinterested than he usually looks like, and Cassia doesn’t know just what to do with it as he suddenly says, “Those who survive will, though.”

She can’t help but let out a scoff at his words. “Oh, that makes it all better of course. That some survive…”

But the Ascian doesn't seem offended at all. “Doesn’t it?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in question as he holds her gaze. “All of them want to fight. For their lives. They know the risks, know they might not see it all the way through, but they are willing to die for what they deem worth fighting for.”

Cassia knows his words hold some truth to them, but she can’t help but feel tired. Tired of watching people around her die. Tired of seeing the loss in every corner of the world. Tired of watching people make sacrifices over and over again. Somehow, the whole futility of it all throws her back into the memories of the discussion about the play and her feelings around it. It feels almost like she is making much of the same points, feeling frustrated by the same helplessness, only in far more pressing and real circumstances.

“What good is fighting for a future to every single one of them if they have to give up their own?” She knows all too well that sacrifice is often necessary. But the futility behind it all has never been so obvious, so overly present as it is here in the First where, with every piece of knowledge they gain, it seems like there are less and less good options left for going forward.

“And what would you have them do?” Emet-Selch argues, the questioning look on his face an obvious challenge to her. “Should they just sit around and wait for the inevitable end? Weren’t you the one who argued for raging against fate?”

“Isn’t that what you had originally hoped for? That they just wait for the end?” Cassia shoots back before shaking her head. “We don’t even know when that end would actually be, and they would be alive in the meantime!” 

“Maybe dying for what you believe in is preferable to living on in uncertainty, waiting endlessly for it all to be over.” 

Whatever Cassia had expected him to say next, it certainly had not been this, and as Emet-Selch speaks, something in his voice gives her pause. A new cadence that does not quite fit the way he had sounded so far. Not entirely at least.

“Is that what you’re doing then?” Cassia asks on a sudden whim, following the feeling in her gut. “Waiting for something to finally be over? For fate to run its course?”

For a moment he looks almost startled before the patronizing look he sports so often is firmly back on his face. “I believe we were talking about the soldiers, do try to keep up, my dear.”

But the sudden change doesn’t fool Cassia, no matter how quickly he falls back into his act. And an act it is, Cassia realizes by now. She had suspected it before, but this moment, however small it had been, drives home like nothing else just how much of everything he does and says feels like one big stage-play. She had tried to take her measure of him before, but she had been looking at him through the eyes of a fighter. Now that she sees something intimately familiar in his whole demeanor, her entire perception subtly shifts. Through the eyes of an actress, he presents a decidedly different picture. 

“Soldiers tend to be the same in every war,” Cassia says, a knowing look in her eyes. “No matter where or when they come from.”

A scoff and a frown are his answer as he gives her a scathing look. “You’d think to compare _me_ to those people?”

“You were the one sounding all wistful about dying for a cause,” Cassia says with a shrug. “And you’ve been the one arguing that rallying against fate is pointless.” Her casual answer only seems to spark more of his disdain, yet he makes no effort to leave. Instead, he scoffs once more before narrowing his eyes at her.

“Dying is the easy part.” Emet-Selch’s voice sounds slightly more raw than before. “Everyone can die for their cause. Living on, _fighting on_ , is the true challenge.”

She thinks she can sense a hint of anger in his tone, if only for the briefest of moments. It isn’t like what he said feels wrong. On the contrary. It feels all too familiar, and Cassia lets out a quiet sigh. “What if you get tired of fighting?”

To her surprise, it is her quiet, honest question that has Emet-Selch almost recoil for a moment. But like before, he is back to being his usual, condescending self in a heartbeat. 

“I tire of this conversation,” he says, looking past her with a distant look in his eyes. “Why do you insist on being this boring…”

Cassia can’t help but let out a dry laugh at the almost childish insult. “I don’t think I am boring you at all,” she says, watching the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly at her words. “I think I am making you uncomfortable.”

Emet-Selch’s lips curl up into a mocking smile. “My dear, more impressive people than you have tried and failed at that.” He sounds surprisingly less sharp than Cassia would have anticipated before he adds, “I shall take my leave now.”

“Comfortably, I assume,” Cassia says with a small huff. “But by all means, don’t let little old unimpressive me stop you.”

It seems like he won’t, as Emet-Selch gives her one last long look before turning around in silence, slowly walking away. Before him, the familiar purple glow of a portal opening appears when he suddenly stops. 

“You lose.”

His back still toward her, Emet-Selch’s words hang heavy in the air and Cassia frowns.

“What?” she asks confused, and at that, he turns his head, looking at her over his shoulder with an intensity that nearly takes her breath away.

“When you get tired of fighting, that’s when you lose,” he says softly before disappearing into the portal, leaving behind only silence.


	2. Behind The Curtain

When she returns to her room that night, something feels off. Cassia isn’t certain what exactly it is, but she looks around carefully, trying to pinpoint the feeling. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, and yet she feels the hairs on her nape stand up. When she rounds the corner, she stops dead in her tracks as she sees something lying on her bed. It is small and looks unassuming, but Cassia knows for certain that it hadn’t been there when she had left. 

Carefully, she takes a step closer to take a better look. Her eyes go wide as she sees it’s a book. But not just any book and Cassia instantly knows who left it here. Still stunned, she takes it and sits down on her bed. 

In her hands, she holds a copy of The Kingdom Under the Sea. There are small cracks in the spine of the book, indicating that it had been read a few times. Her eyes fall onto another curiosity. From its pages, she can see several papers sticking out. Like bookmarks. Curiously, she opens the book at the first paper, only to find it full of little notes. Notes about the scene the paper is placed in, she realizes, little remarks, quotes of the text, and thoughts about interpretations. They focus especially on the point she had been so passionate about during their talk, and a little while later, Cassia finds herself at her writing desk, a fresh mug of tea next to her as she gets her writing utensils out and starts to make counterpoints.

The hours fly by, and the next time Cassia looks up, it is already late in the night. Emet-Selch had been nothing but thorough. He had said he would give it another read, but he had done far more than that. He had meticulously analyzed every single scene of all three acts for things either supporting or refuting Cassia’s interpretation and put them all down onto the papers he left in the book. 

His notes are _intricate_. Cassia can’t help but feel impressed. The way he argues his points and dissects bits of text to their core is intelligent and well thought-through. But in between those clever lines, there are biting remarks and a sense of humor that has her laugh out loud several times. 

Cassia leans back and looks at the mess of papers and notes on her desk. She doesn't know what to make of this whole situation, now that she takes a moment to think about it. It doesn't make any sense, broadly speaking. Even if she takes him by his word and believes that he is simply trying to keep himself entertained, something feels off. Like she is missing a piece of the puzzle. 

Absentmindedly, she reads over one of his annotations again. He argues in such detail and with such fervor, it draws her in almost immediately, and a moment later, she finds herself reaching for her pen again. Emet-Selch seems like a wholly different person on paper. There is no trace of the lethargic and bored person she had met face to face. And though his analysis is sharp, there is no condescension in his written words. It is like she gets a brand new perspective on him, and part of her can’t help but speculate which one is more true to his actual character. 

In the early morning hours, Cassia falls asleep after having written an answer to nearly every single bit he commented on. The pages are neatly arranged inside the book again and she leaves it sitting plainly on her desk. It is still there when she wakes up hours later, but when she returns to her room after another day of helping out around the Crystarium, it is gone.

When she meets Emet-Selch in the Ocularum the next day, she feels his eyes linger on her for a while, but other than that, he makes no mention of their strange correspondence. Cassia would almost be tempted to think the notes were written by someone else when she hears him talk. He switches back and forth between sweetly phrased condescension and scathing belittlement. Words carefully chosen to antagonize the Exarch with their bite, who bears them with remarkable calm. 

Cassia thinks back to their talk about her acting, and she wonders if he maybe understands her whole trade in much more detail than he let on. Just as she wonders if either one of those sides she got to know about him are a full-on act, or if they are both rooted in some truths.

A day later, when she returns to her room in the evening, she finds another book sitting neatly on her bed. It is by the same author and she knows it is one of their earlier works. Cassia has only read it once, many years ago, and her memory about it is flimsy at best. There is a letter on top of it, several pages long. It points out paragraphs and whole scenes where Emet-Selch goes into detail about how they relate to the author’s later plays and shows how the motifs they used evolved to support his earlier arguments.

Cassia only glances over them before she realizes she is going to have to read that entire book to refresh her memory if she wants to agree or disagree with any of this. She keeps reading until her eyes fall shut in the middle of a scene, and the following day, she takes the book with her and uses every quiet moment to continue. 

She takes a bit longer to compose her answers this time. The number of details Emet-Selch brought up in his observation and analysis of the text is almost overwhelming, and Cassia feels she has to contemplate every word, every sentence she writes perfectly. He is meticulous in a way that gives her little leeway to be vague, and making her own point in an equally elaborate and logical way is nothing but a challenge. One that she thoroughly enjoys, she finds.

One thing that had always felt a bit strange to her is how everyone around the Scions felt like they had this shared history. They all had grown up in the same world and had a shared frame of reference from that. Adriene, Lay, and her had always been a bit apart from that, but even there, Cassia had felt like the odd one out. Lay and Adriene had spent the first five years in this new world on Eorzea. Unlike Cassia, they had gotten to know the local customs, the history of the land, and its people during that time. 

Cassia, on the other hand, had landed in Garlemald. Where she had made completely different experiences. Had learned the ways of entirely different people. But in her group, she is always the only one with these experiences. There are no shared jokes about past happenings with anyone for her. No one who she can talk to about any of the things she had learned and lived through that actually understood.

Sure, she can always explain to Adriene about a book she had read back then or a role she had played, but it is a very different thing compared to talking to someone who had actually been there. Someone who also seems to have a keen interest in the same things she has.

Cassia can’t remember when she had last felt this challenged by something. The only other person she has ever had conversations with on this level is Urianger, but there is never the same kind of competitive need for perfection in her when they talk and argue. Most of the time, she and Urianger are of one mind, and while their talks are equally intellectually stimulating, there is little to no conflict in them.

With Emet-Selch on the other hand, there seems to be nothing _but_ conflict, strewn all over the pages. 

There are no stakes in this, Cassia knows. They are talking about a decades-old play, after all, nothing world-changing or otherwise important. Yet it still manages to spark a need in her to push herself, to make sure her answers are airtight and nothing short of perfect.

She spends most of the next few days reading at every free minute she gets. The book sits carefully in her pocket wherever she goes, together with Emet-Selch’s notes so she can go through both them and the book at the same time.

After a shared dinner with her friends, Cassia excuses herself rather quickly, hurrying towards the library for some peace and quiet, eager to get back to her reading. She has just gotten comfortable at one of the study tables, spreading the notes out around the open book, pen in hand and ready to read further and jot down her own thoughts and replies when a shadow falls over the desk.

Adriene laughs out loud when Cassia looks up at her with both confusion and utter indignation at the disturbance.

“I’m sorry,” her sister chuckles, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Your expression is priceless. But I can no longer wait until you finally deem it important enough to talk about.”

Cassia blinks, then she draws her eyebrows together. “Talk about what?” she asked carefully.

Adriene makes a sweeping gesture encompassing the whole of the desk - the book, the notes, the pen, all of the preparation Cassia did. “Well, whatever it is you’re doing!” There is a spark of amusement and curiosity in her eyes. “You’ve been hiding behind that book for days now, and if you aren’t reading, you’re lost in thought. You’ve even trailed off in the middle of conversations, and you never do that. What has you so captivated?”

Cassia swallows as she looks at the papers for a moment, trying to determine how to best explain her behavior. 

“I’ve been,” she starts slowly, before clearing her throat once, deciding to stick as closely to the truth as possible. “I’ve been exchanging notes with someone. About a play. And we’ve had some interesting discussions about interpretations.” She gestures at the book now lying in front of her. “They suggested some additional reading for me to prove their point, but so far, I’ve found at least a dozen instances that just as well support my theories, so I am trying to get through this and write a sort of rebuttal.”

Phrased like this, it sounds indeed completely harmless, Cassia thinks. It still doesn't quite assuage the feeling of unease that has settled in her stomach at the knowledge that nothing about this would sound even remotely positive to her sister if she knew just who Cassia is talking to.

Adriene narrows her eyes at Cassia, like she knows instantly something is up. “Why so defensive?” she teases her, letting her eyes wander over the various notes. “This sounds like something you would do with Urianger, but since the rest of us have been untroubled by intense discussions in the middle of something more important, I feel like there’s more to it.” 

“We don’t-” Cassia immediately starts to protest, only to interrupt herself with a sigh. “Alright, we do, but no, it’s not Urianger.”

Adriene laughs, but it quickly simmers down when she notices the decidedly uneasy look on Cassia’s face. Suddenly, Adriene looks almost regretful for having teased her so, her eyes lingering on where Cassia fiddles with the skirt of her dress. 

“Forgive me, Cassia, I didn’t mean to pry,” she says softly. “You don’t have to tell me who it is. We are all entitled to some secrets, after all.”

She reaches for the book on the table, giving Cassia a questioning look. “May I?” Cassia nods, and she looks at the cover and leafs through it once. “Never heard of it. But that’s not the play you mentioned, is it?”

“No,” Cassia says. “The play is called _The Kingdom Under The Sea_. I performed in it for a few weeks, back in Garlemald.”

Adriene’s eyebrows shoot up. “I think I remember you mentioning it. Wasn’t that the one you loved so much?”

A bout of relief goes through Cassia as she realizes her sister is truly fine with letting some things rest for the moment. “It was,” she nodded, and Adriene returned her smile.

“Do you want to tell me what exactly you’re arguing about? Maybe I can give you some input on how to disprove your verbal sparring partner.”

“I’m not even sure if I actually want to completely disprove them,” Cassia admits. “I mean, I have certain points I will insist on no matter what, I am far too attached to that play to ever be swayed from them, but many of the other things they argue are just some very interesting thoughts, and I am enjoying the back and forth in itself,” she explains the general situation. 

Spoken out loud, the whole thing seems even more bizarre to Cassia than before. Mostly, because it is absolutely true. She genuinely enjoys reading through Emet-Selch’s notes to a point where she is hoping to keep the conversation going as much as possible.

She tries to summarize the plot of the book as best as she can, touching on the main theme of loneliness and the antagonistic relationship of the Kingdom and the refugees they perceived as invaders. But she doesn't even get halfway through before Adriene makes a throwaway comment about something that makes Cassia pause.

“Seems to me that those two factions have much more in common than they realize,” her sister says casually, and Cassia can’t help the broad smile on her face.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say, but they have been arguing that the similarities do not matter in the grand scheme of things.” Cassia hurries to add her explanations about how Emet-Selch seems so adamant on the importance of fate and destiny in the work, making reconciliation impossible.

“They suggested this book to me to show a pattern in the author’s work because it is all about determinism and predestined occurrences.”

“But that makes no sense,” Adriene frowns. “If it is all about fate and how nothing they do matters, why would the author even put in these similarities between the factions?”

Cassia’s eyes light up and she leans forward with an eager smile. “Go on.”

“I’m probably completely off, and keep in mind, I haven’t actually read the books, but if the author would actually want to make that point, they could’ve made the difference between these people so glaring that it would be obvious that there is no actual common ground. Instead, they put in so many moments of connection, of understanding. Why do that if not to show that there is actual hope for a positive outcome? For a future together?”

Cassia’s smile widens. Adriene makes an excellent point, but something in her can’t simply leave it at that but simply has to argue, for argument's sake alone. “To keep the reader hooked. For the arc of suspense. To bring in a layer of subtlety otherwise lost,” she suggests, bringing up some of the same arguments Emet-Selch had jotted down.

But Adriene doesn't seem convinced. “Maybe,” she concedes. “But I don’t know, from what you told me, the author is actually quite skilled in building layers of meaning towards a certain interpretation, and that would… Hm.” She scrunches up her nose. “From what you told me about the plot, if that is actually the case, that they try to make the point that fate trumps all, it feels like taking a hammer to something you built up with so many intricacies. To me, that interpretation actually tries to take away from the work.” She takes the note Cassia had shown her and shakes her head. “Your friend makes a good point here,” she says, “but I cannot help but feel that they are blinded by a certain… cynicism. They know how it ends, and that is the light they view the whole thing in. But you don’t put something in so obviously and build so much upon if it indeed does not matter.”

 _‘Your friend.’_ The casual way Adriene said it makes Cassia swallow down a lump in her throat. She doubts she could call the Ascian her friend, nor should she ever want to. And yet, their exchange has felt undoubtedly friendly, despite them doing nothing but argue. 

But the rest her sister had said is equally as interesting, and Cassia feels her smile return quickly. 

“I think you are not off at all,” she says to Adriene, impressed by her sister’s astute analysis. “In fact I think you might just be spot on.” 

Hastily, she reaches for a piece of paper to jot down some notes. She can already imagine that accusing Emet-Selch of having his interpretation clouded by emotions of all things would get her a fierce reply, and she almost lets out a little laugh at the mere thought.

Briefly, she goes through some of his notes before she hands Adriene another sheet with his annotations for the chapter Cassia is currently reading.

“Look at the first bit,” she points out, “the rest is pretty standard character analysis I’d mostly agree with, but the first part actually goes well with your theory!”

Adriene looks intrigued, as she reads over the passages Cassia handed her. It doesn't take long until she lets out a low chuckle at a particular biting phrase.

“Oh, I love this,” she says, highly amused. “Listen to this! _‘His actions clearly show…’_ Something something irrelevant… oh, here. _‘… a great mind that only would have benefitted from something like creativity.’_ And this part, especially considering what he quotes here: _‘The tension and mystery are that the characters rarely say what they mean’._ ” She laughs. “I know I have barely scratched the surface of the whole thing, but that is hilarious. Have you met that person yet? Please introduce me if you do!” She continues to read, chuckling once more. “Hard to believe someone can be so cynical and amusing at the same time,” she says, shaking her head. She gives the sheet back to Cassia. “I can definitely see why you’re intrigued, this is so up your alley!”

“Uhm,” Cassia makes, trying to catch herself before she says something incriminating. “We only write to each other, so I can’t really introduce anyone,” she mumbles, before leaning closer to look at what Adriene is reading. A small chuckle escapes her, as she realizes that Emet-Selch’s notes about that particular chapter seem to constantly be brimming with snark.

“Ah, yes, they do that sometimes,” she agrees with a smile. “They tend to go back and forth between being very serious and almost whimsical.”

She goes through some of the other notes until she can hand Adriene one for an earlier chapter. When her sister starts outright laughing after a few sentences, Cassia chuckles along. 

“Oh, Cass, you have to meet this person at some point,” Adriene gets out in between short bursts of amused laughter. “They are perfect for you!”

Cassia’s eyes widen almost comically for a moment. “Perfect for me?” she repeats in a scratchy voice before she catches herself. “Oh no, you completely got the wrong idea.” The thought alone sends an eerie shiver down her back as she shakes her head vehemently. “This is just an intellectual exercise, absolutely nothing else!”

Adriene laughs again, oblivious to Cassia’s state of mind. “Oh yes, because intellectual back and forth spiced with wit and humor is nothing that would ever make you interested in anyone.” Her eyes are sparkling with amusement as she continues in a conspiratorial tone, “After all, what made you fall for Haurchefant back then was the shape of their ass and not at all the depth and stimulation of your discussions, right?”

A small bolt of a long grown familiar pain runs through Cassia, like every time her thoughts drift back to a time where everything seemed so much less complicated. To a time where she had been happy, and carefree, and had rarely ever worried about the future. No matter the years that had passed since his death, how much she had tried to move on, she knows part of her, deep down inside, would never stop missing him.

Shaking her head, still with that broad grin on her face, Adriene goes back to the notes. “And even if it stays that intellectual exercise, you know, I’m glad you found that person.” She chuckles again at something she reads before she puts the paper back onto the table. Her smile softens somewhat as she looks back at Cassia, and adds, “Because it has been a while since I’ve seen you so engrossed in anything. I’m happy for you. With everything going on, we can all use some… distraction.”

Distraction.

In a way, Adriene is not wrong. Cassia can’t even remember when she had last been so engrossed, so full of enthusiasm for anything. Nowadays her day-to-day life is filled with duty and more worries than she can count. She nods slowly, suppressing the uneasy feeling that no matter what she calls it, it still feels like she is blatantly lying to her sister.

“I think all of us need something,” Cassia agrees noncommittally. One thing about all this rings very true though. “I think I would go insane if I had nothing to focus on for days at a time right now,” she confesses and Adriene’s smile turns sad for a moment.

“I know,” her sister says with a heavy sigh before she shuffles closer to put a comforting arm around Cassia. “I am missing people back home terribly much, and I don’t even have a child waiting for me. I can only imagine how hard the past few weeks have been.”

Cassia swallows before she nods quietly. It hurts almost too much to think about it. Adriene had definitely been on to something when she called all this a distraction. From all the things that worry her so much she can barely stand to think about them.

“I’ve been away for longer periods before, but if I found myself missing Bethany too much, I could always just take an aetheryte home for a night. Now, I can’t even talk to her unless it's via proxy, as much as I appreciate the fairies making that possible for us.”

Her daughter is only barely three years old. _Three years, almost as long as Haurchefant had been gone._ And while Cassia knows she is in very good hands with her grandfather in Ishgard, it doesn’t lessen her yearning to simply leave everything behind and go home.

“It won’t be forever,” Adriene says, trying her best at looking cheerful. But Cassia knows her sister is missing her partners and friends just as much. Maybe even more so, she suspects, given that between the two of them, Adriene is by far the more affectionate one. 

“Thank the gods for distractions then, right?” Cassia says with a small, but genuine smile, ignoring for a moment all the complicated implications and baggage her particular distraction comes with when Adriene smiles back brightly.

“Definitely! And that’s my cue to leave and no longer stop you from reading and writing that answer. I can see your pen hand nearly vibrating with the itch to continue.” She winks at her as she gets up, and Cassia splutters for a moment before she shakes her head.

“I am not that into this,” she protests, but all it does is causing Adriene to smile at her with a slightly patronizing look.

“You know, the important thing is that _you_ believe that,” her sister quips before she ducks out of the way to avoid Cassia’s playful swat at her arm and blows her kiss as she hurries out of the library, leaving Cassia behind with her notes and a head full of ideas for her own letter.

When, after two days, Cassia is finally done with all her own writing, she leaves it at the same spot, and like the last time, the book and the notes are gone when she returns to her room in the evening.

There is a strange sense of giddiness in her as she goes to sleep that night. She is almost certain this would not be their last exchange. Cassia has made her points eloquently and with great care, and she knows she put some provocative thoughts to his statements in there. There is no way he would not answer those, of that she is certain.

It is in the middle of the night when an unusual noise wakes her. Slowly, she tries to get her bearings, the sluggishness of sleep clinging to her as she realizes that noise is the rustling of papers right next to her.

In the faint shadows thrown into her room by pale moonlight she makes out Emet-Selchs form and her first reaction is a sliver of fear about having him hover so close to her. Until she hears him huff in annoyance.

“What in the void is this supposed to be?” he says almost angrily, holding some of her written pages in front of her face as if they would explain his mood to her.

“What is what?” Cassia mumbles, shaking off an oncoming yawn as she tries to sit upright.

“This!” Emet-Selch nearly shoves the papers in her face. “Your _‘rebuttal’_.”

Cassia squints, but she can barely see the basic shape of the papers in the dark. “I have no idea what you are talking about and I certainly won’t magically understand what you mean when I can’t even see what this is about,” she comments dryly.

With an exasperated sigh she hears him snap his fingers, and a moment later, the small lamp over her bed is almost blinding her for a few seconds. He gives her only a brief moment to get used to the light as he unceremoniously sits down on the side of her bed and glares first at her and then at her notes.

“ _Your outright dismissal of certain themes suggests a view colored by cynicism’,_ ” Emet-Selch quotes one of her paragraphs. “' _One might suggest that a view tinted thus may blind anyone to the finer aspects of the subtext.’_ ”

He sounds so indignant that Cassia nearly has to laugh. “I stand by every word I wrote,” she replies lightly. 

“You are implying that the author put in all these little references you seem to cling to, but they are all circumstantial,” Emet-Selch argues back brashly. “Nowhere in the actual text is there any suggestion that they did so deliberately!”

“I know,” Cassia sighs, “that’s why I specifically said _subtext_!”

Emet-Selch shakes his head. “If there were any merit to this, there would at least be one or two moments in their later writing acknowledging the implications.”

“Maybe they didn’t do it deliberately?” Cassia prompts, and Emet-Selch only scoffs at her answer.

“Someone as obsessed with details as this author, and you want me to believe this is what, coincidence?”

“No, but they might have brought in those themes more subconsciously. Without planning to explicitly write them into their work, I mean,” Cassia tries to explain. “No one who writes as emotional and as passionately as them would be free from the possibility of letting some of their own feelings bleed into their writing without their knowledge.”

The distaste for her answer is clear on the Ascian’s face as he scoffs. “You think the author was doing what, putting a subconscious yearning for reconciliation in there?”

“Maybe. Look, I’m not saying it is definitely what happened, but my sister brought that thought up earlier and... I don’t even know,” she sighs. “It just felt like a possibility.”

“Your sister?” Emet-Selch sounds both highly skeptical and a little bit curious. “How did she get involved in this?”

There is something strange in his voice that makes Cassia pause for a moment. Granted, Adriene certainly isn’t interested in the finer parts of their literary analysis, but neither should her interest in what Cassia is doing surprise anyone.

“She noticed I was very busy reading these past few days and asked what I was doing,” Cassia explains simply. When his eyebrow raises in disbelief, she hurries to add, “I have not told her with whom I’m having these discussions, of course.”

“Of course.” Emet-Selch lets out a toneless laugh. “I doubt she would approve.”

Cassia doesn't need to guess, she knows for a fact that Adriene absolutely wouldn’t. And with very good reason. “If I’m honest, I’m not sure _I_ approve either,” she murmurs, and this time, Emet-Selch’s laugh sounds a lot more genuine.

“And yet, here you are…”

When she doesn't answer immediately, the Ascian tilts his head and gives her a calculating look.

“Do you want me to leave?”

It is a plain and simple question. It should, by all means, be a plain and simple answer as well. A short and to the point yes should be her most natural reaction. 

Cassia’s eyes fall to the book he still holds, and just remembering how much she lost herself in their written discussions these past few days makes something inside her tingle with excitement.

“No,” she finally says. Part of her is nothing but looking forward to discussing all the points they both made in person. But despite all that, a shiver runs through her. The room is rather cold at night, a preference she has for sleeping, but with the blanket stopping at her waist, the cold seeps more and more into her skin. 

“I would very much like to continue this discussion, but I am going to need to get up and get some warmer clothes, possibly make some tea, so if you wouldn’t mind?” She looks pointedly to where he is still sitting on her bed and the brief look of confusion on Emet-Selch’s face is almost amusing before he realizes she needs him to move so she could get out of bed.

He rolls his eyes in exasperation. “How inconvenient,” Emet-Selch murmures and after a moment of deliberation he just shrugs. “Fine.”

He doesn't get up though. Instead, he snaps his fingers once, and a moment later Cassia finds herself with a thick woolen stole around her shoulders. She blinks in confusion when he suddenly holds out his hand to her, offering her a steaming mug of her preferred tea. For a moment, Cassia just stares until the Ascian pointedly clears his throat, spurring her into action.

When she takes the mug from him, the fabric of his pristine white gloves brushes her skin and she feels a little tremor going through her at the sensation. Cassia catches herself quickly enough, managing to not spill any of the hot liquid onto her blanket as she draws her hand back. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs quietly, once more thrown off by how utterly bizarre everything about their interaction is.

“So, silly notions about subconscious motives aside, the point you made about the ocean theme being present in both works is intriguing,” Emet-Selch simply starts their discussion back up, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened in between. 

Cassia sips on her tea that has not only the perfect temperature but is also sweetened exactly to her liking, and she briefly wonders if he observed her much more closely than she would have guessed. The thought gets brushed aside as their discussion sparks back up, though, and Cassia’s mind is almost immediately swept away by it.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come talk to me over on tumblr ^^](https://kunstpause.tumblr.com)


End file.
